Take Ten
by tutncleo
Summary: This is the tenth installment in the "Home Is" Series. Gibbs developes pneumonia and Tony must take care of him.


"**Take Ten"**

**Tenth Installment in the **_**Home Is …..Series**_

"_**A true lady or gentleman remains at home with a grouch same as if they had pneumonia"**_** Kin Hubbard**

"No, I don't want any chicken noodle soup," Gibbs snapped, as he reached for another kleenex from the box on the bedside table, and sneezed violently into it. "I'm sick of chicken noodle soup."

"I was just asking," Tony said, raising his hands in mock surrender, as he sat at the foot of the bed looking at the other man. "How about a cup of tea, instead?"

"And I don't want tea, chicken broth, orange juice, grapefruit juice, jello, or sherbet either!" Gibbs barked, glaring at Tony from the bed he lay in.

"Ducky said….."

"Ducky says lots of things, DiNozzo. No one listens to everything he says," Gibbs retorted.

"Yeah, but…."

"No buts about it," Gibbs paused to sneeze again. After grabbing another Kleenex, he glowered at Tony and asked, "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I'm not going in today. The team's on stand down, and McGee can review cold cases without me there. Ducky said it would be better if I stayed…." He was interrupted again.

"Tony!" Gibbs warned, matching his tone with the ferocity of his glare.

"Okay, okay. So, how about I put in a movie, and you can watch it while you lie there?" he suggested, in a conciliatory voice.

"I don't feel like watching a movie right now." Under his breath, he muttered, "I never feel like watching a movie." Then he awkwardly extracted his legs from the bedcovers, and stood on shaky legs.

Tony was on his feet in an instant, hands extended in case Gibbs needed steadying. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Bathroom, and then to the kitchen for some coffee," Gibbs grunted, irritated by how much effort just standing was taking.

"Bathroom, yes. Kitchen, no," Tony said adamantly. "Ducky said you weren't supposed to be out of bed for anything but…"

"Where's my gun?" Gibbs growled.

"Why?" Tony asked, surprised by the question.

"Because I'm gonna shoot you!" The effect of the roar was lessened significantly by the coughing fit that followed, but once Gibbs had that somewhat under control, he stubbornly wobbled towards the bathroom.

Tony sighed, but surreptitiously followed. When the door slammed in his face, he leaned against the wall next to it, prepared to wait until Gibbs was done.

"I can hear you breathing out there," Gibbs called through the closed door.

Tony didn't bother answering, he just continued to wait. He could hear Gibbs wheezing, as he struggled for air, and that served to strengthen Tony's resolve. After the toilet had been flushed and water run, signaling that Gibbs was washing up and brushing his teeth, the door opened again, and a pale, drawn Gibbs emerged. Again, Tony didn't comment, but he walked behind the sick man, who headed straight for the bed.

When Gibbs had sunk back down on the bed, giving silent thanks to whatever gods had let him get back there without collapsing, which would have confirmed all of Tony's worries, he asked, "Are you intending to just follow me around and stare at me all day, DiNozzo?"

"Probably just the second part of that," Tony smirked. "I don't think there'll be too much need to follow you. Doubt if you're going too far."

"This part of Ducky's orders, too?" Gibbs wanted to know, as he weakly fished around under the pillow for the kleenex he'd had earlier.

"Nope, I came up with it all on my own," Tony said smugly, as he reached over and picked up the box of tissues, holding it out closer to Gibbs, so that he could get one without having to sit back up.

"And that's why you're not a doctor," Gibbs rejoined, but there was no real force to his words, and his eyes were beginning to close again.

Once Gibbs had fallen back asleep, Tony took the opportunity to clean up around him. Discarding used tissues into the trash can, and arranging the glass of water and box of tissues on the nightstand so that they were in ready reach of the sleeping man for when he woke up, he then pulled the covers up higher, so that only Gibbs' neck and head were exposed. That done, he sat back down on the bed and spent the next hour doing exactly what he'd promised – staring at the man in the bed. Gibbs coming down with pneumonia had scared him. He was the one who always got sick, the one with the weak lungs, not Gibbs. Gibbs was supposed to always be strong and well. A Gibbs who was too weak to be out of bed, who spent the night fighting for breath, didn't factor in Tony's world, and for the first time in a long while, Tony thought about the difference in their ages.

What would he do if Gibbs died before him? He'd never really thought about it before. Oh, he knew that this wasn't going to kill him, but it did raise the question. When they had first gotten together, Tony hadn't let himself think about the relationship in long terms, but now, over two years later, it was impossible not to ignore. Before today, however, long term had consisted of such mundane things as vacation plans for sometime in the future that never seemed to materialize, or what they would plant in the garden the following spring. They'd never talked about what they'd do when Gibbs really did retire, or more to the point of his musings, what their individual wishes for funeral arrangements were. Did Gibbs even have a will, and if so, where? Would Gibbs find his – the one he had locked away in a safety deposit box at his bank? As he sat there, lost in those morose thoughts, he realized that subconsciously, he must have always expected to die before Gibbs, from some rare disease, a gunshot, or bomb, or even possibly a horrific car accident while Gibbs was driving. The last notion caused him to involuntarily snort, which helped him regain a modicum of perspective. Somehow he had always viewed Gibbs as Teflon coated, bad things might happen to him, but they just didn't stick. The pneumonia had shaken that image. Gibbs was just a man, as mortal as the next.

'I don't want him to die,' Tony thought. 'Well duh, I'm sure he doesn't either, dummy,' he chided himself. He couldn't really imagine a world that didn't contain Gibbs, even though he wasn't sure when that had happened. He didn't have any interest in going back to dating women or men who always wanted more than he was willing, or able to give, or who had an image of him that was just too hard to maintain for any length of time. He didn't want to spend his weekends clubbing, or watching movies alone in his apartment. He liked the quiet companionship he'd found with Gibbs, the simple pleasure that came from being able to tell what another was thinking from just a quick look. He liked not having to explain himself, because he knew that Gibbs just got him, and being able to do the same thing for Gibbs in return. He cherished the security that came from knowing he wasn't going to be judged, and found lacking. That didn't even take into account the sex, the mind blowing, brain numbing sex - the sex that was better than he'd ever had with anyone else. He was in love, hopelessly in love, and he didn't want to be any other way. What happened to someone, when the person they loved most wasn't there anymore? Would he be able to survive that, the way Gibbs had when Shannon and Kelly had died? Would he even want to try?

On that depressing note, Tony heaved himself off the bed. He wandered down to the kitchen and looked around. There wasn't really anything for him to do. They'd cleaned the house from top to bottom this past weekend, having put it off for far too long, neither thinking too much about the cold that Gibbs was having trouble shaking. It was the cold that had prevented them from dirtying anything up again, once the cleaning was finished, since Gibbs hadn't felt like doing much of anything. So, when Monday had rolled around, and Gibbs' breath had become as short as his temper, Ducky had intervened, and insisted on the chest x-ray that revealed the pneumonia. Now it was Friday, and Gibbs was back home, having been released from the hospital yesterday afternoon, even though the doctor hadn't really wanted him to leave. It had only been Ducky's assurances that Gibbs would be carefully monitored and cared for, that had convinced the man to sign off on the discharge papers. So that was what Tony intended to do, even if it did get him shot, he thought with a small smile, remembering Gibbs' earlier threat. Walking over to the counter that the coffee maker held pride of place on, he prepared a pot, knowing Gibbs wouldn't be put off a second time. When he woke up next, he was going to need to have some coffee. 'Guess coffee can wash down pills as good as anything else,' he told himself, as he watched the dark brown liquid begin to drip down into the carafe. Maybe he could use the coffee to bribe Gibbs, he plotted – a cup of coffee if he would drink some juice – two cups of coffee if he ate something, too. 'That could work,' he nodded.

Reaching into the pantry he pulled out the bed tray and a can of soup, which he opened and poured into a microwave bowl. When the soup was hot, he got a glass of orange juice, which he placed on the tray next to the soup. Utensils, pills from the bottles he'd picked up at the pharmacy, and a large mug of coffee followed. Then, lifting up the tray, he climbed back up the stairs. The sound of a nose being blown alerted him to the fact that Gibbs was awake again.

"I said I didn't want any soup," Gibbs growled, the moment he walked into the room bearing the tray.

"But you do want coffee, don't you?" Tony asked, ignoring the stubborn set to Gibbs' chin, as he set the tray down on the dresser.

"You know I do," Gibbs answered petulantly.

"I'll make you a deal," Tony said. "One cup of coffee if you use this orange juice to take your pills, and two cups of coffee if you eat the soup." He waved the mug of coffee around in the air to tempt Gibbs.

"Fine," Gibbs grunted.

Tony set the coffee down, and grabbed the pills and juice. Taking them to Gibbs, he watched as his lover swallowed both down. "Soup?" he asked.

"Two cups of coffee, right?" Gibbs asked, demanding confirmation.

"Yep, I'll get you a refill as soon as you finish the one I have here," Tony agreed.

"Get me the soup, then," Gibbs sighed.

When Gibbs was done with the chicken noodle soup, Tony served him the coffee, and true to his word, he went and got Gibbs another cup as soon as the mug was empty. Settling back on the bed, next to Gibbs, he watched as the older man sipped the coffee, needing the comfort that being close provided. When Gibbs set the mug on the bedside table and lay back, Tony couldn't resist cuddling in close.

"Did Ducky prescribe this, too?" Gibbs asked, although he reached over and encircled Tony's shoulders with an arm, pulling him closer.

"Nope, this is more of Dr. DiNozzo's favored remedy," Tony murmured, his lips nestled against Gibbs' chest, where he'd laid his head so he could hear Gibbs' heart.

"What did Dr. DiNozzo say about kisses?" Gibbs asked.

"He's in favor of them. Said kisses make everything better," Tony answered, as he raised himself up till he was face to face with Gibbs.

"So if juice got me one cup of coffee, and soup got me two, what will this get me?" he asked, as he pulled Tony down into a deep kiss that was more about love than passion.

"A whole pot," Tony whispered, as he lay his head back down over Gibbs' heart, wrapping his arms around his chest, content for now just to lie there, listening to the steady beat of the most precious thing in the world.


End file.
